You Fall Away From Your Past, But It's Following Y
by lilmissgraceful
Summary: One shot, song fic. Dean is thrust back in time to memories he'd rather forget


He awoke suddenly, as though a bucket of ice water had been dumped on his head. He didn't normally wake up all of a sudden from a dream, that always happened to his brother, never him. In fact, he wasn't even sure that he _had_ been dreaming, he didn't even remember falling asleep. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was only 3:02, which was way too early for his liking. He then began to wonder where he was. Throwing an anxious look around the room, he remembered that he was in a motel room (in what state, he didn't know, nor did he care) on a hunt with his brother, who lay in the other bed, snoring (loudly for that matter). Stretching tiredly, he rolled over, and what he saw when he did so peaked his interest. He had seen a shadow in the mirror. Curious, he climbed out of bed and walked over to the mirror.

They say curiosity killed the cat, and it had brought Dean dangerously close to the cat's fate numerous times. But when what he saw in the mirror and what he expected to see were two completely different things. What he expected to see was a twenty-six year old, sleep deprived Dean Winchester with the motel room in the background, the moon casting the only light. But what he saw was a Dean Winchester that couldn't be any older than four, eyes brimming with innocence. There was no distinct background, just a haze. Dean was about to rub his eyes, tell himself it was all just a dream, and go back to bed when the four year old held out his hand. Cautiously, he reached out his own hand to meet the child's. But what happened next amazed Dean. His hand went straight through the mirror and took hold of the child's outstretched hand, as the rest of him followed. There was a flash of blinding white light, and when it was gone, he was in a place that was all too familiar.

_You made up your mind to leave it all behind  
Now you're forced to fight it out_

The deep blue walls that were adorned with papers colored with various drawings, the dark wood dresser with a framed picture sitting atop it. And the floor, littered with matchbox cars. This had been his room. Crossing the room, he walked up to the dresser and gazed at the picture. His mother, father, and a younger version of himself holding an infant smiled up at him. This had been the last picture taken of the four of them together. His eyes fell on his bed, with race car blankets and pillow cases. He smiled to himself. His obsession with cars began at such an early age. His four year old self was peacefully asleep. Then Dean began to smell his least favorite smell, smoke. With a wave of shock, he realized what night this was. The child slowly woke up as the sent drifted into the room.  
"Daddy?" The four year old asked, walking out of the room.  
"Take your brother outside as fast as you can! Now Dean!" His father exclaimed, handing him his baby brother.  
With another blinding flash of white light, he was transported from his home in Kansas, to a motel room. He didn't know what state it was in, but it seemed all to familiar. He couldn't have been older than eleven, and he was left to look after Sam while their father was on a hunt.  
"But I don't want Spaghetti O's," a much younger (and much shorter) Sam whined.  
Dean remembered almost instantly what was going on. This was the time their dad was hunting a Shtriga, and he had left Sam and Dean alone. This was the time Sam had almost died because of Dean's stupidity.  
As the younger version of himself was walking out the door, he called out, in efforts to stop him. But when he did so, the younger Dean didn't act as though he had heard him. As the scene played out, Dean realized he was a phantom in his own memory. He couldn't change anything. To the inhabitants in his memory, he didn't exist, at least, not yet.

_Something I've done  
That I can't outrun_

More and more scenes played out. Dean's first hunt, Sam's first hunt, Sam leaving Dean and their father to go off to Stanford. And with each one, Dean felt like he had been stabbed in the gut. Because each one led to where he was now, each one was responsible for the person he had become, and the person he could never be. And then there was one scene that he would've liked to forget, if a part of him hadn't wanted to hold onto it forever.

Her name was Cassie, and she had the biggest, brownest eyes he had ever seen. He had met her finishing up a job. She was only a college student, yet so fierce and independent. She was his first love. And she had broken his heart. They say your first love never really dies; you just find a way to live without them. Dean finally realized this was true. He would never forget Cassie.

_It's now your rerun  
It's the one you can't erase_

A blinding flash of white light later, he was transported into another memory. But this one was more recent. And he wasn't exactly sure it should be called a memory, seeing as how he was there, but he wasn't conscious. He was lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to all sorts of machines and wires. Seeing the look on Sam's face devastated Dean. He had only seen that look cross Sam's features one other time, and that was when Jess had died. He reached out to put a hand on Sam's shoulders, to comfort him, though he knew it would do no good, when things suddenly began to fast forward. Their dad making a deal with the demon, seeing himself comeback to life, their dad telling Dean what he has do when..._if_ Sam turns evil, then dying only moments later.

Then, he was in a memory that had only occurred several days previous. This memory seemed to play out in slow motion and fast forward at the same time. Sam dying, Dean making a deal, then finally, when they killed the demon.

_But there's something you've  
Said that can't be undone_

With a jolt, Dean was back in the motel room he was sharing with his brother. He found himself staring into the mirror, at a reflection of himself at four years old. The child gave him a small, knowing smile and disappeared, back into the depths of Deans memory. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was 3:03. He had only been gone a minute, but it seemed like a lifetime. He climbed back into bed and stared up at the dark ceiling. All of that, all the bad things that had ever happened to him, had led to this. He wasn't sure exactly what 'this' was, but he knew it had to be important. He'd be damned if he was actually going to let the demon give him only a year. He would need a hell of a lot longer than that. The war had only just started after all.

_You fall away from your past  
But it's following you  
You fall away_


End file.
